The System

by Gemma Malley

  ‘And that’s how you sleep at night? You think that killing all those people somehow saved me so it’s okay?’ Linus asked, his voice very cold suddenly.

  Thomas shrugged. ‘I sleep at night because I’ve done everything I ever wanted to and more,’ he said, taking a few steps away from Linus, folding his arms in front of himself. ‘Because I have control over everything and everyone. Because I ask for something and I get it.’ He walked back to where Linus was sitting, leant in closely. ‘Even your precious System, Linus,’ he said, his voice dropping. ‘Even your precious System.’

  ‘Just be careful what you wish for, Thomas,’ Linus said then.

  Thomas regarded Linus, a look of pity on his face. ‘Oh, Linus. You are so desperate to still be the person who knows what’s going on. Don’t you get it, though? You were never that person. Back in your little camp, in your cave, you knew nothing about anything. You thought the rest of the world had been destroyed. You believed everything I wanted you to believe. And now you have lost all your bargaining power. You’ve totally given in, given up. Linus, I used to respect you. Now, I just pity you. You are pathetic. You have served your purpose.’

  He stood up. ‘I am going to take your System and test it. If there are any problems with it, any problems at all, I will kill Raffy here and then I will kill you. Slowly. Painfully. I don’t need you anymore; what’s here is enough for my people to develop anything I want them to. So this is your last chance to tell me about any little glitches you’ve put in there to surprise me.’

  Linus shook his head, shot a quick smile at Raffy, who didn’t return it.

  ‘Good,’ said Thomas. ‘Very good. In that case, Linus, come with me. We’ll test it together.’

  32

  Evie had never felt so exhausted, had never felt her muscles and bones groan with so much pain, but she refused to give them a moment’s rest. In front of her was a door, a door that led to everything she had ever wanted, and she was going to open it if it killed her.

  ‘Is it locked?’ Frankie called up. Evie was perched at the top of a fixed ladder; the door, like the door back in Paris, had been the emergency entrance for maintenance, for access in and out. But this door wasn’t opening, however much Evie kicked at it.

  ‘No, it’s wide open,’ she shouted back, aware that the sarcasm in her voice wasn’t entirely necessary but unable to manage any other tone. Now wasn’t the time for questions; it was the time to get through this bloody door. They’d come so far and they weren’t going to be defeated now. Evie wasn’t going to be defeated now. She kicked again; the metal door stayed resolutely closed.

  Frankie scrambled up behind her, then next to her; Evie resisted her angrily. ‘I can do this,’ she said, but Frankie wasn’t listening; she continued up the ladder then started to feel around the wall. Evie rolled her eyes and, holding onto the ladder, started to kick again, pain shooting up to her thigh as she did so. She kicked, over and over and over, each kick as futile as the last, and she could feel the tears running down her face but she ignored them because she was going to get out of this tunnel, she had to get out of this tunnel. And then Frankie squealed. ‘Got it!’

  ‘Got what?’ Evie shouted, still kicking, left leg, then right leg, then left leg again.

  ‘Stop that bloody kicking,’ Frankie shouted. ‘I’ve got the key.’

  Evie stopped dead. ‘The … key?’

  ‘The key,’ Frankie nodded, talking slowly, as though to a child. ‘People always leave a spare key lying around just in case. There’s a ledge up there that goes right around the perimeter of this little tube we’re in. And I found the key.’

  She shot a triumphant look to Evie and scrambled back down the ladder. Evie tried to take the key from her but Frankie refused, edging Evie out of the way and fitting it into the lock. It took her a few minutes to turn it, but eventually Evie heard the metal move; moments later, Frankie turned the handle and the door opened. In front of it was another tunnel, filled with mud, lots of mud, piles of it as high as the two of them put together. But there was also light. Not far away there was sunlight, a way out. A way home.

  Evie stared at it, almost not daring to believe. Then, without warning, she grabbed Frankie, threw her arms around her and squeezed her so tightly Frankie gasped for air, then she released her and took her hand. ‘We’re here,’ she said, her voice barely audible. ‘Frankie, we’re really here.’ And with that, she started to run, not looking back to check that Frankie was following, just running towards the light, towards the City, towards Lucas.

  Milo watched the planes leaving. There would be questions, of course there would, but the questions didn’t matter now. Milo would obfuscate, would make something up. Thomas had his System; that would be enough for now.

  ‘So!’ His door opened and Thomas appeared; behind him, held by two Inforcers, were Linus and Raffy, hoods covering their faces. ‘I have it,’ he said, his eyes gleaming. ‘It’s finished.’

  Milo stood up, clapped Thomas on the back. ‘You’ve done it,’ he said. ‘You’ve got everything you ever wanted.’

  Thomas nodded slowly. ‘Yes, Milo. I think perhaps I have.’

  ‘So are you going to show me?’ Milo asked, keen to change his screen to something else. ‘It’s being tested on the shadowframe, right? Show me. Talk me through it. If it’s everything you say it is I can’t wait to see.’

  Thomas’s eyes lit up as he ushered the guards in and installed Linus and Raffy on two chairs, their hands tied behind their backs. ‘It’s more than everything I’ve said it is. Very well, Milo. I’ll show you. Prepare to be amazed.’

  33

  Frankie’s lungs felt like they were about to explode; her whole chest ached, her legs were shaking and she winced every time she landed on her right foot. And yet she kept running, because ahead of her was Evie, and the urgency in the way she was moving, the elation in her face when they had finally seen light, made Frankie as determined as her new friend was to get to this place called the City, to see with her own eyes what Evie had told her about. Evie didn’t say very much; Frankie had learnt that pretty early on. But she said a lot with her eyes; the way they clouded over when she met with disappointment, the way they turned to steel during disagreements, the way they danced when she spoke about Lucas. Frankie had never met someone so private who, nevertheless, communicated so much.

  At first it had made her wary, mistrustful; after all, sharing was good, sharing meant that you had nothing to hide. But gradually she had begun to see that Evie was just cautious, that by keeping things to herself they stayed more precious. It reminded Frankie of the little jewellery box her father had given her when she was eight; it was full of secret compartments, each containing their own bead or bauble which, joined together, could be made into a necklace. It had been a year before she strung them together; within a few weeks they had been worn, forgotten, lost. But in the box they had been treasures. In the box they had been her secrets that she was determined to protect.

  It had been a long time since she’d had any secrets. It had been a very long time since anything had been that precious to her.

  And so she ran, gritting her teeth against the pain shooting up and down her limbs, squeezing her chest. Because Evie still had treasures to protect. And Frankie was going to help her find them again. Because nothing else mattered anymore. Because this strange, silent girl had taught her how to feel alive again, and Frankie would never forget it.

  She saw the speck in the distance, Evie, stop, and she upped her pace to catch up, panting furiously when she finally reached her.

  ‘There,’ Evie said, breathlessly, pointing ahead. ‘That’s the wall. That’s the City.’

  Her eyes were sparkling in spite of the bags under her eyes, her matted hair. Frankie knew that she, too, must look unbelievably awful, covered in mud mixed with sweat, her wig plastered around her face. She grinned. ‘So come on then, what are we waiting for?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Evie said uncertainly. ‘Nothing, I ju
st … This is it. We’re here. And you’re going to film it all, right? That’s what you said. You’re going to show the world that the City exists?’

  Frankie put her hand on Evie’s shoulder; she could see the nerves on her friend’s face. ‘We’re going to show them,’ she said. ‘Everything’s going to change, Evie. Because of you. Because of Raffy.’

  Evie nodded. ‘I know,’ she said, her voice catching slightly. ‘It’s just … I can’t quite believe it. Does he know? Raffy, I mean. Does he know we’re here?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Frankie said. ‘I haven’t heard from him.’

  Evie considered this. ‘He’s a good person. Raffy, I mean. He deserves to find happiness,’ she said.

  ‘Then I hope he finds it,’ Frankie said, doing her best to keep her voice light. ‘Now listen, have you thought about doing something with your hair? You’re going to be seeing Lucas soon. And I’m going to be filming it for the whole world and … well … it’s an interesting look you’ve got going on, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Evie smiled. ‘Lucas won’t care,’ she said. ‘Anyway, you can tell your watchers that I’m just working tunnel chic.’

  Frankie stared at her in surprise. ‘Working tunnel chic?’ she asked, an eyebrow raised. ‘And where did a backwards City girl learn a phrase like that?’

  ‘I might have watched you a bit,’ Evie shrugged lightly. ‘Before I met you, I mean. I watched you all the time. You kept me sane. And actually I quite liked that pink dress you wore to the film premiere two weeks ago. It was pretty.’

  Frankie’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘You watched me? You liked the dress? I thought fashion is a waste of time and, worse, a diversion away from the real pain and suffering that exists in the world? I thought that I was an Infotec Stooge who’s as much to blame for the cultural prison we’re in as Thomas or Milo?’

  Evie shot her a sheepish grin. ‘Maybe I was a bit harsh,’ she admitted. ‘And, maybe a bit jealous.’ She bit her lip awkwardly.

  ‘I think I can probably forgive you,’ Frankie said, holding her gaze for a few seconds before winking. ‘Race you to the City?’ she suggested then, running off ahead quickly. ‘Winner gets a shower. You do have showers in the City, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course we have showers,’ Evie yelled, running after her. ‘Although I’m not sure that cheating Parisians get to use them. Anyway, you don’t even know the way.’

  ‘So show me!’ Frankie yelled back. ‘Show me your City, Evie. And show the world while you’re at it.’

  34

  As Evie got nearer the wall, she found herself slowing down. The gates were open; she could see people inside. Not swamps, but people, people she didn’t recognise, people she did. And then she saw a face and she stopped dead because it made no sense, because it was suddenly so real, that she was here, that things had changed, that she didn’t know the City anymore, that she didn’t know if Lucas was even alive.

  ‘Martha?’ The woman who had comforted her so many times ran towards her, embraced her, held her tightly. ‘Lucas,’ Evie gasped. ‘Where’s Lucas?’

  ‘Hi,’ she heard a voice say. ‘I’m Frankie.’

  ‘Frankie. My name is Martha.’ They were talking but Evie couldn’t hear them; she pulled away from Martha’s embrace, stared around at the people milling about, drinking soup, talking, moving things around.

  ‘Lucas,’ she said, then started to run again. ‘Lucas!’

  She could hear Martha calling her back, could hear Frankie calling after her too, but she couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. ‘Lucas,’ she screamed. ‘Lucas!’

  She ran through the crowds, stopping dead when she saw Maggie, an old friend from the Settlement, then shaking herself and running again, towards the centre, towards the place she hoped he’d be. ‘Lucas!’

  35

  Thomas stared at the screen. It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. It was everything he’d ever dreamt of. He could see everyone, see where they were, what they were doing. But more than that, he could see what they were thinking. Or rather he could see how they were feeling. He could see anger and frustration, joy, tension, boredom, misery.

  ‘You did it,’ he breathed. ‘Linus, you actually did it. I didn’t think you would. I thought when I turned this on the screen would just go black, that you’d think somehow you could outwit me. But you didn’t. You built it. The original idea. It’s so much better than the one you built for the City. It’s incredible.’

  ‘It’s the dream,’ Linus shrugged, his eyes twinkling. ‘So you like it? Mind removing our hoods so we can see it too?’

  Thomas nodded to the Inforcers to remove them. ‘Like it? It’s incredible,’ he gasped. The status updates of everyone flashed before his eyes in colours that told him whether they were truthful or not. ‘Loving this new job’, a lie in red that clearly showed the fear and anxiety the updater was feeling. ‘OMG this party is awesome’ in purple, the colour of loneliness. Another lie. Thomas rolled his eyes; people were pathetic, always trying to make out that their lives were better than they were, that they had more friends than they did, that they were better, richer, cleverer, more disciplined than they really were. People were pathetic, really. Pathetic, self-deluding peacocks.

  But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he knew everything now. Everything. It was extraordinary. It was beyond his wildest dreams.

  Milo cleared his throat. ‘Listen, sorry to interrupt but I’ve just had a message from Sweden. Apparently there’s some communication breakdown,’ he said.

  ‘Deal with it,’ Thomas growled. ‘I don’t care about Sweden. Not now. Don’t you realise what this is? What it means?’

  Milo raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s great,’ he said.

  Thomas looked at him pityingly. ‘The problem with you, Milo,’ he said, ‘is that you’ve never had any vision. You’ve never understood the whole picture, never been able to see the potential in things.’

  ‘No?’ Milo caught his eye; Thomas thought he saw something in it, hostility perhaps. Then, quickly, he turned back to the screen in front of him, saw for himself the colour of Milo’s thoughts. Black for anger, hatred. He would have to go. He would organise it later that day. Perhaps a tragic car accident. Possibly on the way to Sweden.

  ‘Thomas, I think you need to see this.’ Milo was talking again; Thomas barely glanced at him.

  ‘Milo, I am not interested. Whatever it is, I am not interested.’ He was staring at the screen in front of him, staring at the colours, the thousands of colours washing through it as he navigated through whole towns, cities, countries. Everywhere were emotions, thoughts. Everywhere he looked. And he found himself frowning because the colours were so dark, so flat. Unhappiness, loneliness, worry, hunger, fear, anxiety, pain. And it made no sense. People were happy. People loved the world he had created for them. They told him all the time, told him in their updates, their blogs. Why was there so much sadness? Why weren’t the colours bright, light? What was wrong with everyone?

  ‘Not interested in the entire operating system shutting down?’

  Thomas frowned. Milo’s words had turned white. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He couldn’t look away from the screen, couldn’t turn his head away from the blacks, the reds, the purples, the browns. It was as though everyone was shouting at him, crying, sobbing. It was too much; he wanted them to stop, needed them to stop, but they wouldn’t.

  ‘Enjoying your System, Thomas?’ Linus said, his voice low. ‘Enjoying seeing how people really feel?’

  Thomas rounded on him. ‘You did this,’ he said angrily. ‘You have engineered it to suggest people are sad when they are happy. You think I can’t see through you?’

  ‘You think you have any idea how people miss freedom?’ Linus said softly. ‘How much they fear you? I thought that’s what you wanted.’

  ‘Thomas, you really have to see this,’ Milo was saying.

  ‘Turn this off,’ Thomas said to Linus, his voice icy. ‘Turn it off now.’


  ‘Turn it off? Oh, that’s impossible, Thomas. The genie’s out of the bottle. Can’t put it back in again.’

  ‘Turn it off,’ Thomas shouted. ‘Turn it off. Now …’

  And then he stopped. Because in front of him, the screen changed. And in front of him was Frankie. She looked different, thinner, covered in mud, her hair matted, her clothes like something out of a war zone. But that wasn’t what made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was where she was. He recognised it instantly.

  ‘This is the place Infotec didn’t want you to see. These are the people Infotec wanted you to think had died long ago in a nuclear attack that never happened. This is the experiment orchestrated by Thomas, our leader, to imprison us, to convince us to turn to him for protection, when the only thing we needed protection against was him. He started the Horrors, controlled them. He told us that the UK had imploded; told the survivors here that they were alone in the world. But now they are fighting back. Infotec didn’t want you to see me. They tried to kill me for asking questions about the UK. But I’m not dead. I chose to fight. And I ask you to do the same. Take out your chips. Take down your cameras. Say “no” to Infotec. Say “enough”.’

  Thomas felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Turn it off,’ he growled. ‘Turn the channel off. Now!’

  But Milo was shaking his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘She’s on every channel.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Thomas shouted. ‘Shut her down!’

  ‘I’m afraid you can’t shut her down,’ Linus said. ‘She’s beaming right out of the mainframe in Sweden.’

  ‘Then switch to the shadowframe,’ Thomas said, rounding on Milo. ‘Do it!’